


Pacificity

by Skylark



Series: HSWC 2013 [25]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ashen Romance | Auspistice, Baking, Child Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Late Night Conversations, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-09-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 23:42:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1138853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylark/pseuds/Skylark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://hs-worldcup.dreamwidth.org/15805.html?thread=2567101#cmt2567101">Prompt:</a> The quadrants are covered in the earlier schoolfeedings, when you’re still young enough to believe in serendipity. —Alpha!Jade ♣ Alpha!John ♣ Condesce.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pacificity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whilst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whilst/gifts).



Today it's Mom's turn. You hear her raised voice, feel the floor start to shake in time to the sound of distant fighting, and you're running to the kitchen before Jade starts to scream. You lunge through the swinging doors and find your sister crumpled on the ground, her hair spilling in a tangle from your mother's hand. Spades, spades all the way down.

Your sudden presence makes both of them freeze. Neither of them look at you. The tears standing in Jade's eyes have yet to spill over. Your mother's teeth are bared. Behind them, a half-mixed bowl of cake batter is splashed across the counter like a crime scene. You know it's beautiful, thrilling, but inside you feel sick and small.

You don't dare to step into the room yet, remembering what you've learned about reading crowds from piano recitals, magic shows, press conferences. “Can I help?” you say, loud enough to carry across the room. “I'd like to learn, too.”

The two of them stare each other down, unmoving, weighing your presence against their shared hate. Then your mother leans back minutely, and the tension breaks. “Shore,” she says, her voice perfectly calm. “Always got room for one more minnow.”

Jade's hair slides free from your mother's grip, and she stands quickly, turning away from you. You step closer then and pick the wooden spoon off the floor.

“What kind of cake is it?” you ask your sister.

“Angel food,” she mumbles. The apron ties are a splash of red across her narrow throat. You turn to your mother and she hands you an apron identical to both of theirs, making the three of you a matched set.

You fall into the old routine easily: sifting, mixing, resting a hand on your sister's waist as your mother's hands settle on your shoulders, cracking jokes that make them both snort and roll their eyes. It's a dead audience, but you persevere. The tension drains from the room drop by drop, and by the time the kitchen starts to fill with the smell of baked sugar, it's almost gone.

When Jade's called upstairs for tutoring, she casts you a last veiled look before she leaves. You don't know what to make of it, but you breathe a little easier when she's out of sight. Your mom gives you a crooked smile and ruffles your hair.

“Sing me a shanty to pass the time,” your mother tells you. She calls you her songbird, and your voice dies when she runs a hand through your hair.

\--

“I hate her,” Jade whispers to you in the dark, fiercely. “The second the weather warms up, I'm leaving! She won't be able to stop me.”

After a while, she says, “John?”

Then, “Are you asleep?”

Later still. “Are you crying?”

“You should come with me!”

“I think you're asleep. It's just like you to snooze through all the war planning! Ugh.”

Eventually she rolls over, and after a few minutes you can hear her whuffling snores. Only after you that do you ease your fingers from your mouth. In the dim glow from your nightlight you can see the wet grooves your teeth have left behind.

You rummage around until you find your phone, pull the covers over your head, and watch the schoolfeedings again. Serendipity, you mouth in time with the narrator, is destiny. The right match in the right place at the right time. When you find it, you'll just know.

“Serendipity,” you say again, slightly louder to cover the way your voice shakes.


End file.
